


A Long Ride

by clearinghouse



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boats and Ships, Fluff, Graffiti, M/M, Raffles Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9013627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearinghouse/pseuds/clearinghouse
Summary: Modern AU. Harry Manders is set to take on a new job as a writer for television, in a studio on the other side of England. He’ll be working in the same place as some of the nation’s greatest stars on the telly—but he doesn’t think much about that, until he comes across one star in particular.





	

As a writer for small-time theatre and television, I didn’t often get the chance to travel. Flying was not a regular occurrence for me, and of course I didn’t have the resources to secure a better seat than one in the economy class—but on that day I would be in first class. 

It happened right before we were to board the aeroplane. My mobile was out of power, and being the novice traveller that I was, I hadn’t brought a charger cord. I looked around to see if any of the other passengers at my gate might have more prudence than me.

I marked the first one who was holding the same model of device that I had. He was in the middle of a conversation with it; in his other hand, his fingers toyed with his charger cord, idle and unused. I waited until he ended his call before approaching him. “Excuse me, sir,” I said. “Can I use your charger? My mobile is dead, and I saw that you had the same kind. I can charge it with my computer, but may I use your cord for half an hour on the plane?”

He glanced at me sharply. “How do I know you won’t keep it if I lend it to you?”

I was taken aback by this display of cynicism—I could not imagine why he should think so meanly of me—but he laughed.

“Don’t make such a face as that, now!” he said with a smile. “You do seem like a good enough fellow. Tell you what; take the seat next to mine. I was supposed to travel with a friend beside me, but I’m afraid he had to dash from the airport at the last minute. Board with me, would you kindly? You can charge your mobile where I can keep an eye on you. You don’t mind taking the aisle seat, do you?”

While I didn’t recognise this man, his voice was familiar. I agreed to take his absent friend’s seat. I instantly noted to myself that it was generous of him to give me the seat that, between himself and his friend, was not the middle seat in a row of three. Neither did he draw attention to this act of generosity. How curious, I reflected briefly; here was a man at once extremely untrusting and remarkably benevolent. 

I couldn’t hear the lady at the gate calling out cues for boarding. When my new companion moved forward to board, I followed his lead even though most other passengers continued to stand and wait.

“He’s with me,” my man said to the lady at the gate. She took his ticket and mine, and then we were walking down the hallway to the plane. Along the way, I registered the tidiness and quality of my companion’s roller suitcase, which was quite unlike my crammed duffle bag.

He stopped us at only the second row of seats, still in the first class cabin. “I’ll take that for you,” he said to me. Up my bag went onto his shoulder, and then up again into the overhead bin. He removed what he needed from his own bag and then stored his bag beside mine.

I stared at him, taken aback for a second time.

The man took the nearby window seat. “Well, come on. You don’t want to block the aisle, do you?”

Naturally, this was sound advice, and I took my place, but I was still surprised at my good luck. For once, I would be riding in luxury.

He opened the window shade, and briefly looked outside at the nighttime darkness of the tarmac. Then he tapped his finger up on the indecipherable mess of buttons above our heads. “You won’t mind if I use the light, will you?”

I said that I would not mind.

“Thanks awfully. I do have some work to catch up on.” He turned on a light above us; the light fell down to illuminate the item in his hands; it was a printed script, made thick by its many layers. He angled the script away from me, but it was clearly an actor’s copy, paper-clipped in more than one place and highlighted in spots.

Then, I knew where I could place his voice. I knew who he must be, past the lack of character’s make-up on his face, the unexpected black colour of his hair, and the perfectly clean-shaven chin. “You’re AJ Raffles,” I whispered, “the actor!” 

Raffles was impressed. “You know of me?”

I had never pictured myself as a hero-worshipper, and yet butterflies filled my stomach. Though he was not a movie star, Raffles was famous in the world of television for the villains that he played. To think of the odds of meeting someone as impressive as him! “I’ve written for soap operas like yours. Oh, but none as good as yours! It’s an honour to meet you. I can’t believe how little you look like your character on television!”

“Indeed, you are the first to recognise me like this,” Raffles said, smiling and kindly saying nothing of how childishly I was behaving. “How did you know me? You didn’t manage to read the cover of the script, did you?”

I was embarrassed, but I answered him. “I recognised your voice.”

“Your ears must be quite good with sounds, bunny. Make sure no one else catches wind of me. I am still technically on holiday, mind you.”

He buckled his seatbelt and took to reading over his script, directly after handing me his cord. I plugged my phone into my computer beneath the seat in front of me and clasped my own seatbelt. I, for one, had meant to use the time to sleep, but I found that I could not. I felt giddy and awkward. I fiddled with one of the shopping magazines in the seat pocket. I was torn between a desire to talk more to Raffles, and a very real fear that I would irritate him.

After the flight had taken off and we were served our drinks—to be given a drink like this on an aeroplane was a luxury that I appreciated fully—I dared to speak again to my companion. I wanted to redeem myself in his eyes and my own; I was resolved to talk to him as I would to any other stranger. And I had good reason to wish to make conversation with him. We had an industry in common between us. When would I ever have a chance to speak to someone in my industry as famously talented as he? “I’m sorry to interrupt your work, but, my name is Harry. Harry Manders. I only wanted to say that it was very nice to meet you.”

“Ha, of course that’s your name,” Raffles remarked lightly, without looking up from his papers. 

I blinked. “What do you mean by that? You couldn’t possibly be suggesting that you know who I am?”

“My dear bunny!” The actor’s taciturn streak broke. Raffles laughed grandly and beamed at me. “I make it my business to know all about my colleagues at the studio. You’re the new writer, just hired, for one of the other shows. I looked you up while I was away. Before you even saw me, I recognised you from your Facebook page. Why else do you think I would hold my cord out as I did, when it was so plain to see that you needed a charge? I beg you to forgive me, but it’s a point of pride for me to hassle newcomers, you see, especially the cute ones that have crushes on me.”

My heart skipped a beat. I buried my red face into my palms, as far as I could. Raffles clapped me sympathetically on the shoulder, as he would do for me in so many situations yet to come.

“Ah, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t plan on meeting you so soon. I really was on holiday. Remember that friend of mine who was meant to be in your seat? He and I haven’t spoken in years, and I wouldn’t exactly say that we were friends. The trick is that I couldn’t use the reward miles on his account without also buying a ticket in his name, too. He never was good with passwords, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind; he has miles in spades, after all, and it’s not as if he was ever going to use them.”

—

“AJ, wait, don’t go! Before you leave, I have to tell you—I’m sorry!”

I’ll own that these were my hurried, panted words. Though I was uncertain of them the instant they were out in the open, they put such a show of bright curiosity on the dark face of my colleague that I could not regret having spoken.

Raffles was stopped in the middle of reaching out his hand to hail a cab. He must have been adamant to try to leave the studio as soon as he was released, before I could overtake him as I had just done.

Having just barely caught up to him as it was, I had done something of a run to stop him from leaving for his commute back home. Work at the studio had stolen the daylight hours from us both, so that we now saw each other only in the light of the moon and the street lamps. That light did more justice to the filth of the pavement beneath our feet than to the cunning of his features. For this reason, I could not discern from his expression how he felt about my intrusion.

But I could hear it in his voice. He was cold and distant, as he had been for days. “Oh?” 

“You were right,” I admitted, holding my chest as I did so. Even though I was not eager to put myself so entirely in the wrong, I had had enough of this silence between us. 

“What was I right about?”

“Your villain character. You were right, when you said that it was better for you to play him up as a chivalrous sort.”

Raffles was not pleased with my apology. “Is that all you have to say?” He finished raising his hand—I caught sight of the nicotine patch under his sleeve—to call a cab to himself. He was eager to leave me.

I had often thought that Raffles was the temperamental type of artist, but I’d never known him to have such a temper as this. He was normally so kind to me, too. It hurt to lose that kindness, that friendship. “I don’t expect you to forgive me all at once,” I said, “but I can’t leave you in this spirit. I am sorry about what I said about your acting. Can’t we go back to being friends?”

Raffles turned on me hotly. “My dear chap! How can I be friends with a man who insults my work and then tells me what to do about it?”

I bowed my head in shame. “I shouldn’t have done either,” I submitted. “It’s not my job to tell you how to interpret a role. And of course, you would know better than I do about performing one. If you think your villain is a noble bloke, then you go ahead and make him so!”

Raffles didn’t respond to that. He only stood there, tapping his foot, thinking to himself.

A cab was upon us now. An awful shudder passed through me. I feared that I had lost my friend. 

“Come with me, Bunny,” he said, suddenly, with a flash of energy. He opened the cab door for the two of us.

I wondered where he meant for us to go. There was nowhere else I needed to be, though. I hopped into the cab after him. Raffles gave to the driver an address that I did not recognise.

Raffles spoke to me, after a pause. “It is my turn, Bunny. I must apologise to you.”

I did a double-take. The Raffles I knew was a kind-hearted man, but a proud one as well; I’d never seen him acquiescence to anyone. The meek expression on his face was entirely new to me.

“I’ve been a fool. You are no doubt asking yourself, how can a grown man be so thin-skinned as I have been? No, Bunny,” he raised a hand to shut down my interruption before it could begin. “You would not be wrong to think that of me. I will tell you what’s changed with me, Bunny. 

“Your opinion mattered too much to me. Those dialogue lines of yours; they were the first that you’d ever written for me. I meant to impress you with my performance of them—but all that caught your attention was how I could be improved.”

“That’s not true,” I protested. “You’re always a splendid actor. I thought I was helping you understand the scene. How silly that idea sounds to me now! I should have known that you didn’t need any help from me.”

“But you are my writer, and I am your actor,” Raffles said. “Aren’t we supposed to be a team?” He looked out the window, and shook his head to himself. “I have been acting like such a child about it, haven’t I? It’s not professional of me at all,” he murmured.

My heart went out to him. I, too, knew the feeling of having behaved too childishly.

I was disappointed when we arrived, because we did not found ourselves at a pub or at Raffles’s flat—of course not that, what was I thinking!—but at the curb of an empty secondary school. Raffles paid our driver and dismissed him. Without explaining any of this to me, he took out his mobile and clicked on its flashlight.

I followed him as he strolled down to the school’s football field. Raffles shined his light around the away bleachers, to the back of the high walls that guarded them. I stopped hard when I saw what was on them.

There, amongst tens of other spray-painted figures and phrases, was a caricature drawing of myself. My moustache was made thick and curled to a sinister shape. My brow was set darkly, and my eyes were conniving. I was the very image of a detestable villain. 

“My work of art,” Raffles exclaimed, with an air of defeat.

I was stupefied. “You did this?”

“Yes, but I find that I don’t care for it now.” Raffles whipped out his keys, selected one, and opened a nearby tool shed with it. From within, he took out a spray can of paint, as sudden and offensive an object as any I did see. He looked up and down the art once more. “It’s always a bitter pill to have to undo one’s own work. Alas! No, I won’t even take a picture of it,” he sighed. “It isn’t such a beautiful thing as I once thought.” He finally covered the image of me on the wall with a layer of white white.

All the good feeling still left in me drained out. “You were that angry with me?”

Raffles smiled at me. “I was, wasn’t I? But don’t take it the wrong way, old chap. It’s only because you affect me, Bunny. I’m not one to put so much stock in the opinions of my audience, and yet, it cut me to the quick that you weren’t satisfied with my performance.” His gaze returned to the art upon the wall, though he wasn’t actually looking at it. “You, alone, affect me this much.”

I watched him put away his can of paint in silence. I wasn’t thinking of his defacement of public property. How could I worry about something so insignificant as that, when Raffles had hated me so much that he had made such a bitter shrine to me?

Raffles locked up the shed. He clapped me on the shoulder in a friendly way, and led us away from the gallery of vandalism. “Ah, you are taking it the wrong way! Didn’t I say not to do that? Let’s get out of here.”

I, being as slow-witted as I was, was still too obsessed with the mistake that I had made. “I promise that I won’t remark like I did on your acting again. I never meant anything personal with what I said. I’ve always thought you were a spectacular actor!”

“And you are a fine writer, so don’t be so quick to revoke yourself. Let’s stay a team. We’ll both be better off that way, don’t you agree?” Much to my good fortune, Raffles was of greater sense than me, and he was patient as well. He bade me take a seat on a bench by the eerily-still playground that we passed. He sat down with me in the dark, and once again we were side by side, as we had been in the cab, and as we had been in that aeroplane so long ago. 

I was happy to be with him like this. For once, we weren’t going anywhere, or in the middle of work. We were here together for the hell of it. I wished I could lean next to him, and soak in some of his warmth, but to share his company like this was no less a joy to me. He had long ceased to be a celebrity in my eyes; I no longer felt giddiness around him, but a different sort of excitement entirely.

After some time had passed, I was ready to babble on further, but Raffles saved me.

“I was too busy throwing a tantrum before to do anything about it; but I missed you, Bunny. It feels like I haven’t seen you all week. You wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with me, would you?” He dangled another of his keys in front of me, charming me with them. “Come, let’s take a walk through the school. I know how to open the Master Locks in no time at all. We’ll see if the two of us can’t find anything interesting!”

I laughed. Raffles was an incurable rascal. Though I could never make a game of the law myself, I daresay that I loved that he would share his own game with me.

My laughter provoked a burst of pride in Raffles’s expression. He must have observed that he had the kind of power to affect me, too.

—

I should have known, by then, that Raffles was the ultimate thrill-seeker. I probably did know. Still, I acted surprised, when I realised what fresh absurd crime he was committing—and with me once more as his witness.

The night was a warm one. Moonlight reflected sweetly in the water all around us. There was only Raffles and myself on his yacht, dressed in dark clothes and in the dark ourselves. 

Except that it was not his yacht; he didn’t even own one, apparently, and why should I expect him to?

“Whose boat is this, then?” I asked him, once he had revealed this to me when were already far out into the water.

“I can’t say that I remember the owner’s name. I do recall that he is looking to sell it, and allowed me to take the boat for a spin myself not long ago. Naturally, I took an impression of the key while I had the opportunity. The fellow even let me know exactly where the liquor is kept, if you’re interested.”

That was exactly like my Raffles—my thief in the night. “No, thanks.”

Raffles crossed his arms on the railing. “Yes, indeed, who needs it?”

“But I thought you wanted me to see your yacht,” I pointed out to him. “What was the meaning of this, if you don’t have one of your own after all?” I gave the question a moment’s thought of my own. “Was it to hold the torch for you to get onto the boat?”

Slowly, he left the railing, and came close to me. He was near enough for me to make out the energy in his blue eyes. “No, Bunny,” he said at length. “Your company is what makes the whole thing worthwhile. I needed to see you in the moonlight, reflected in the water.” He laid a hand on my shoulder, more softly than he had done in the past. He wore a hopeful expression. “The truth is that I wanted you alone to myself. What do you think of that?”

I gasped. My throat ran dry. I stared at him with wide eyes, feeling too much like the starstruck twit I had been when I had first met Raffles. “You can’t mean me?” I stammered. 

“Of course I mean you. Most people stop looking at me the way you look at me once they get to know me. But not you, eh? No, you never seem to tire of me.” Raffles smiled, and I felt that his fingers were itching to move up my neck. “Bunny… You’ve been a great friend to me, and you’ve never let me down. And you won’t let me down, regardless of what you say next. If you want to stay friends, then friends we’ll stay. But as for me…”

“AJ?”

“I love you.” Raffles forced himself to pull himself away from me. “I don’t suppose you will give me a chance at having you? I’d stay by you all the way if you did, Bunny. There’d be none of that tabloid drama for us. We could even keep us a secret, if that makes things easier.”

“AJ,” I whispered. “I don’t care about that.” I held out my hand to him. I would give him the chance he wanted, a million times over. “Please?”

He took my hand. He came forward, and kissed me. He held me possessively about the arms, and filled me with his warmth. He continued to kiss me, and I kissed him back, holding him more tentatively than he held me. After all this time, I felt unworthy of him still. Yet he loved me. From the way his fingers grazed my skin, I knew that he treasured me. That happy thought alone made me shake. 

“I love you, too,” I breathed. I knew that I was blushing hard. I could barely speak, I was so nervous. Even so, I wanted him to know that I treasured him as well.

Raffles was transformed with delight upon hearing my words. He paused and gave me another reassuring pat on the shoulder, but this time, his hand was heavier, and it stayed on me for a long time. He glanced out at the water, and I admired how Raffles admired the twinkling of the stars in the darkness of the night. 

“We still have a long ride ahead of us,” Raffles said, turning back to me. “Why don’t we make the most of it?”

He sat us down together on a couple of folding chairs at the front of the deck. There we lied about, side by side, enjoying the warm midnight air and the newfound freedom to touch one another. We did not talk very much. We had time to ourselves at last, yet Raffles was not in a hurry, and neither was I. I’ll admit that it was a rather awkward adventure when Raffles meant to kiss me from his own seat. Then, he divined that he should share my folding chair with me. Everything was perfect between us after that.

End.


End file.
